


Bed Rest

by taxicab12



Series: we change together [7]
Category: Leverage
Genre: F/M, I promise I’m incapable of writing sad things, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:40:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25024051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taxicab12/pseuds/taxicab12
Summary: There was no possibility, no universe, no plan where Eliot outlived either of them. He was okay with that, had long ago accepted that.It didn’t make the broken ribs or the bullet wound in his side hurt any less, but it made them easier to swallow.
Relationships: Alec Hardison/Eliot Spencer, Alec Hardison/Parker/Eliot Spencer
Series: we change together [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1792609
Comments: 16
Kudos: 143





	Bed Rest

It was always Eliot who was going to be hurt, that was just a fact of life, a consequence of his job. And the fact that he was just hurt and not dead was a vast improvement on what he often expected.

There was no possibility, no universe, no plan where Eliot outlived either of them. He was okay with that, had long ago accepted that.

It didn’t make the broken ribs or the bullet wound in his side hurt any less, but it made them easier to swallow.

And the medicine helped, the bed rest helped (as much as he hated to admit it), the sound of his partners trying and failing to cook breakfast in their apartment kitchen helped.

“Breakfast!” Parker popped into his room cheerily, dropping a plate on his stomach.

He groaned. “Really?”

“We made pancakes,” she said. “Chocolate chip.”

Not only were they burnt, but they tasted strongly of egg, as if the batter had not been well mixed. Eliot swallowed the bite regardless, scanning Parker’s clothes, office wear. “Where are you going?”

She sighed. “We’re so close to closing this job, Eliot. The mark is on the hook. I just have to get him to transfer the money.”

“Parker, this guy is dangerous. If I wasn’t there, Hardison would’ve been shot yesterday.”

“My cover isn’t blown,” she said. “I’ll be fine, Eliot.”

He wasn’t going to tell her not to go, he would never tell her that, but he worried. “Be careful.”

“I’m the queen of careful,” she said, in her goofy voice.

“Go get him.”

She smiled and kissed his forehead, leaving Eliot’s bedroom door open behind her.

After she’d gone, the apartment door slamming, Hardison stood, presumably from his usual seat at the kitchen table and walked by the doorway, as if heading into his and Parker’s room. A moment later and he walked by again. Then again.

It was, by Eliot’s count, the sixth time Hardison walked by before he gave in, Hardison’s nerves getting to him.

“Are you gonna keep pacing or are you gonna come in?”

Hardison entered, then left for a moment, returning with his laptop. He sat on the end of the bed, putting his laptop down on Eliot’s feet. “How you feeling?”

“Like crap,” he said. “I’ll live.”

Hardison fiddled with his computer for a moment, then removed his comm, gripping it tightly in his fist. “Think she’ll be all right?”

“Course she will,” he said. “She’s Parker.”

“I mean,” he said, “of course I believe in her and everything. But, you’re Eliot and you got beat on this one.”

“It’s my job to get beat up,” he said. “Parker’s smarter than that. If she’s in danger, she’ll find a way out of it.”

“I know,” he said. “I know. Still makes me nervous.”

“Me too. Hell, we’d be fools if it didn’t.”

“You know, I worry about you too.”

“You don’t have to do that, Hardison.”

“You just said it’d be stupid not to worry about Parker. Why are you any different?”

Eliot could have come up with any number of excuses, but he didn’t. 

“I know you’re the hitter, man,” Hardison said. “I know you like punching people or whatever and that’s all good. But it scares me when you get hurt like this. I care.  _ We _ care.”

“Thank you,” he said.

“I love you,” Hardison said. (This was not new information, not any kind of milestone, yet to Eliot it felt like a revelation. He had been loved before, but he wasn’t sure he’d ever had this kind of love, the kind that made you feel safe). “You gonna eat that?”

It took a moment for Eliot to remember the plate of pancakes on his chest, then he chuckled. “Hell no.”

Hardison moved the plate to the ground, leaning in to kiss Eliot on the way.

“I love you,” Eliot said, as if it were a revelation.

Hardison put his comm back in, but didn’t move from his seat on the bed. In fact, he shifted even closer to Eliot, leaning his back against the headboard, his computer on his lap, his free hand silently mussing Eliot’s hair.

There was no possibility, no universe, no plan where Eliot outlived his partners. But days like this, he imagined himself dying a normal death in his old age, from a heart attack or falling off a ladder after stubbornly insisting he was still young and fit enough to repair a roof (in these daydreams, they had a house, a detail Eliot clung to), and on his death bed, Parker and Hardison would be there, holding his hands, kissing him, and saying a proper goodbye.

He never imagined a peaceful, natural death, not really, but at least he’d begun to hope for a kind one.

He had never wanted to die, but for maybe the first time, he really wanted to live.

(Parker would come home successful a few hours later to find the two asleep, Hardison’s laptop carefully tossed to the ground, their arms wrapped around each other. And though Eliot’s full size bed wasn’t nearly as big as the king they usually shared, she would lie down beside them, placing a kiss on each of their foreheads. Eliot would wake, the two loves of his life surrounding him, and feel truly, honestly,  _ finally _ at peace.)


End file.
